Because she's my Sister
by Mai Ascot
Summary: They love each other really. You just have to look hard enough. Because they're brother and sister, and they've always been there for each other. Ingrid/Vlad bonding. NO incest. CBBC owns all.
1. Old

**You got Old.**

The words don't seem much, a simple comment, to anybody who walked by. Who knows? They could even be seen as an insult.

Not to her though. As she and Vlad dance around each other - because it is nothing if not dancing - she looks at him, his hair darkened by the transformation, his wardrobe muted from the orange and blue obsession he used to have.

In fact, Ingrid thinks that he stopped that a while ago.

But his hair flops a little over his forehead, and he's taller than her now, which is a nightmare for her ego, and he has fangs and his beautiful sapphire eyes that looked to her first, when he was born, turn black at a moment's notice now.

Because he got Old, and Ingrid wasn't around to see it.

_That's what hurts the most._


	2. Same

**You're still the same old puny little Vlad who can't stand the sight of blood!**

Ingrid knew the words were untrue the second she said them.

Why would she try and get a rise out of him now, why when he was evil, when he was stronger, when he wasn't the same old Vlad?

Because she was testing if he had really changed.

Vlad hadn't changed at sixteen, so Ingrid had been stupid enough to think that he never would, and he'd stay little Vlad that she could tease and silently love and have him continue to walk away.

But when he said not to push him, with his fangs out, and his eyes dark, then Ingrid had to face facts.

He wasn't the same old Vlad anymore.

He wasn't the brother that she remembered.

_That's what hurts the most._


	3. Special

_What about your family?_

**Nothing Special.**

Ingrid had lied again (when would the lies ever end – never. She was a _vampire.) _but this time, at least it was a half-truth.

Count Dracula – _please. _He was a neglectful parent, with a severe favouritism problem. Ignore all the vampire stuff, and that's all he was, that's all in the end he ever would be other than Vlad's father.

Her Mother was no better. She had no child raising instincts, not one. She felt no affection, no love. Her heart was a cold as stone, and Ingrid had no illusions that it wouldn't stay that way for a long time.

Wolfie – he was adorable, yes, and seriously needed someone to look after him in this place. But again, Ingrid knew once he'd learned the ropes he would too be gone.

None of them were anything special.

There was one more.

Vlad was special. Again, ignore the Chosen One stuff, and the love and the hate and the bitter words and the silent fights and the loud shouts. He was her brother. He had this look about him, this smile, this air that made her whole day better. She wanted to remember him like that.

Not like he had been when he tried to murder her.

That wasn't her Vlad, the little boy wearing the striped shirts and the brown hair (black now, when had it been black? It had changed – just like hers) and the grinning mouth and the stupidly perfect English accent when they had first moved to Wales.

That's why the new Vlad had to die.

Because he wasn't the old Vlad.

She had to remember the old Vlad, and keep him in her mind, as she thought of ways to kill the imposter. Otherwise the body would be dominated completely by the evil, which had to go. Had to die.

Because he used to be so, so special.


	4. Conscience

_I knew you had a conscience!_

**No, it's just that **_**you **_**were so glad to be a vampire, I couldn't stand the thought that I'd made someone so... happy.**

_And you missed him._

_And wannabe never compared._

_And he was your brother._

_But only you knew._

_And you really wished that it was him there instead of the Branagh Boy._

_And because you love him._

Ingrid closed the door behind her, making sure to slam it, before sliding down the wood with her head in her hands, trying to drown out Vlad's happy nattering to their fickle father.

Why did he still love him, idolise him, want him to love Vlad?

It was hopeless.

_It was just as hopeless as him ever idolising you_, spoke the conscience of Ingrid Dracula, which she swore did not exist.

_That's what hurt the most._

* * *

_**Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to meeeee, Happy Birthday to mee. **_

_**Sorry.**_

_**I had to do this on at least ONE of my stories or I would've felt like a total failure... But it's HERE. MY BIRTHDAY. MWAHAHAHAHA.**_


	5. Disappointed

_So, you'll miss your families. Well, boo hoo. They were only going to disappoint you._

_**Mine have, anyway.**_

**...**

Her dad was supposed to be a great, legendary vampire. His cruelty was supposed to be world renowned, his bloodlust was supposed to insatiable, he was meant to think he was royalty and act as such.

He was not a great, legendary vampire. He was a fool, who was run down and in love with mortal women who all seemed to despise him. His bloodlust was pathetic, he barely kicked up a fuss about having rabbit for breakfast, lunch and dinner for years. He thought he was royalty, yes, but he acted like a five year old having a tantrum when he did not get his own way.

Her mother, well... she had been a disappointment the second she had left.

And Vlad?

Well...

He was the most disappointing family member, because he had almost been there. Almost gained her respect. But then, Vlad had to go and fall in love, with a slayer, and his face crumpled and he cried and she held him, and well-

It was disappointing, because afterwards he didn't remember who held him when the slayer had left.

So now, he was just Vlad.

Just where he was before.

And Ingrid was miles back, with holes in her skin where his tears had dropped.

Burning her away.

And, in the end, it wasn't he who was the disappointment.

It was her.

_That's what hurts the most._


End file.
